


We'll Get It Right, Tonight

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Series: Always By Your Side [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is a Tease, Fluff and Smut, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Wire Play, also a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: 15th of December 2039That bench. It’s the place where Hank had tested Connor’s ability to contemplate his own mortality. It’s where they’d first kissed three months ago after dancing around the subject of feelings for too long.Connor found them difficult to process, Hank liked to pretend he didn’t have them at all.





	We'll Get It Right, Tonight

It’s December 15th 2039 00:51am, and Hank Anderson is quite concerned that his heart may beat so hard in his chest it will eventually explode and kill him. He is also certain that should he avoid catastrophic heart failure he will need to have his ears thoroughly cleaned out, because he absolutely could not have heard Connor correctly.

The android in question is sitting in the passenger seat of Hank’s old manual, smiling with a fake coyness, a wicked twinkle in his eye. Flustering Hank was obviously his desired objective. The little shit was trying to get a rise out of him. In more ways than one apparently.

“Hank, are you alright? Your heart rate has increased-“

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the diagnostics. Of course it’s gonna sky rocket if you’re seriously asking to... Fuck.”

“Yes.”

“No! I mean, fuck!” Hank pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a steadying breath. What was it his old therapist had said? When you’re overwhelmed just take a moment.

_One, two, three, breathe in. One, two three, breathe out._

Connor waits patiently for Hank to finish having his internal freak out.

Through the foggy windscreen Hank can see the quiet empty walkway that stretches out alongside the river, he can see the park, the bench with the view of the bridge, all frosted in white. The street lamps causing an ethereal shimmer. That bench. It’s the place where Hank had tested Connor’s ability to contemplate his own mortality. It’s where they’d first kissed three months ago after dancing around the subject of _feelings_ for too long.

Connor found them difficult to process, Hank liked to pretend he didn’t have them at all.

They’d slipped into a strange sort of limbo after that. They were more than friends. Less than lovers. Whatever box they fell into, Hank had been determined not to ruin things. He had convinced himself that things were fine the way they were and Connor didn’t need to attach himself so firmly to his side. He had his own kind, and in time there would be more humans that would come to accept him as a living being with a beating heart and a soul. 

Connor on the other hand had seemed to want more, chasing the trail of that one intimate moment vectoring hopefully toward another. Always carefully placing himself inside Hank’s personal bubble, big brown eyes boring into his with the same questions. The kiss. Why haven’t we talked about it? What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all?

Whenever he grew brave enough to consider crossing the line, that maybe things would be okay if he just fessed up and told Connor his less than plutonic feelings, Hank always chickened out under the guise of his own little mission statement ‘preserve friendship.’ But alas his efforts have been thwarted. Connor isn’t putting up with his evasiveness anymore. 

He had asked to come here specifically and Hank had obliged. Suspicious but not overly so. Connor liked this spot, and Hank had warmed to the location again too, thanks to Connor. Sometimes they came here to shoot the shit or talk shop, or just to sit in companionable silence, listening to the far off rush of traffic and watching the refraction of light glitter on the surface of the river. Now, Hank realises Connor’s motive this evening is seduction. Hank has to admit it’s a pretty good spot for it. It’s picturesque, like a goddamn Hallmark card.

Hank looks to his right, eyeing Connor warily. Sweat is prickling at his hairline and he can feel his palms becoming clammy where one hand rests on the wheel and the other on his thigh, fingers curled into his palm. Tension thrums through his blood along with fear but despite himself there’s excitement rushing up to meet it. Maybe it really would be okay. Maybe if they move things forward he won’t hold Connor back. 

“Are you sure?” Hank asks, trying to keep the waver out of his voice.

Connor tilts his head and gives Hank _the look_ , the one that melts his bones and boils his blood. The one he’s been pretending Connor hasn’t been giving him since that kiss. When it’s late and they’ve been inching closer to each other on the couch the entire evening.

Connor raises one hand, deft fingers loosening his tie. An action meant to captivate Hank’s attention. It works perfectly. Damn him.

Hank swallows thickly. “Alright. Okay.”

Connor moves first, exiting the car and moving to get in the back. Every click from the locks on both doors have Hank’s heart doing backflips. He gets out at a slower pace, shutting the drivers side door and moving to the back.

He can see Connor folding his tie and draping it gently over the shoulder of the front passenger seat through the window. Snow dusts Hank’s hair and falls in cold pinpricks down the back of his neck. Melting instantly from the heat of his skin. It’s already covered the car in a thin layer. They’ll have to be quick or she won’t start up again tonight.

Hank opens the door and climbs inside, closing it quickly behind him to keep the heat in. He’s almost terrified to look in Connor’s direction. Which is ridiculous. There’s nothing in between them but hastily thrown up walls sloppily constructed from Hank’s useless fears. There’s no reason they can’t do this. At least that’s what he wants to tell himself. He desperately wants it to be true. That Connor would be better off staying. That they'd be good together. 

He jolts when Connor’s hand rests atop his which he notices is balled into a fist, knuckles white.

“Hank.” Connor says, cautious. “If you don’t want to do this, we can return home. I won’t make an attempt to proposition you again if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Hank looks over at Connor and is almost blown away at how open he is. His face is almost neutral except for the slight upturn of his eyebrows, but his eyes say it all. He’s scared too. Of rejection. Of the consequences. Hank feels shame prickling at the base of his skull. Once again he’s been so focused on himself he hasn’t taken the time to consider Connor’s feelings.

Hank uncurls his hands and takes ahold of Connor’s between them, brushing his thumb reassuringly over the ridges of his knuckles. Connor smiles, it’s small but it’s there, lighting his eyes.

“You proposition me all you want. Well, within reason. If you start getting all handsy at work we’re gonna have problems.”

Connor’s smile widens a fraction, his eyes sparkling in a way that says he can’t particularly promise anything but for now he’ll agree to these terms, “got it.”

The backseat is a cramped space to manoeuvre in especially considering Hank’s stature, but somehow Connor manages to slide onto his lap to straddle him, leather creaking under their combined weight as their bodies slot together. Hank hesitates before touching him, large warm hands carefully sliding up the plane of his back. Connor makes an appreciative sound, eyes fluttering closed and lips parting ever so slightly. His fingers twitch where his hands rest on Hank’s biceps.

Hank watches his expression, awed. Deviancy has given Connor the capability to feel and to express wants and desires, but his speech pattern and movements are still somewhat largely robotic, suffused with stiff purpose. It’s something that Hank knows Connor sometimes struggles with when observing other deviants who can blend in with humanity so easily. But like this, the sound he makes and the way he melts against Hank is pure instinct. The closest to human that Hank has observed from him. But while Hank enjoys the moment, truth be told he doesn’t give a shit if Connor can’t act the closest approximation of human all the time. He isn’t. That’s fine. Hank wouldn’t change a thing about him.

Hank slides his hands under Connor’s navy hoodie –a ratty old relic from the depths of Hank’s closet- and his crisp white work shirt to get at his skin, which turns out to be cool and smooth under his fingertips.  
Gently Hank rakes his nails along his sides as he presses tender kisses to the column of Connor’s throat. He feels the android jolt and let out a strange noise under his breath.

“Connor, are you ticklish?”

“I... I’m not sure. The sensation was not entirely pleasant, but not exactly unpleasant. Interesting.”

“Interesting huh?” Hank tries it again, this time with a lighter touch. Connor squirms and hank lets out a bark of delighted laughter. “You _are_ ticklish.”

Connor laughs and grabs both of Hank’s wrists with machine precision and presses them with little force into the backrest. Their eyes meet and then they’re both laughing, soft and light like the snow settling on the surface of the silent world beyond the car.

Connor raises an eyebrow, silently chiding him with a hint of amusement. He takes both of Hank’s hands and places them firmly on his body. One on his hip and one on his chest. His lids lower a fraction and Hank swears he feels him shiver.

With the mood put firmly back in place, Hank slides a hand to the back of Connor’s neck, tugging him down into a kiss. Connor is tentative at first, nervous, so Hank takes it slow. Their first kiss was brief and half finished, rushed and heavy with Hank’s fear of corrupting the only good thing in his life. This one is careful and hesitant, good but only getting better. Full of something they can both barely contain.

Connor mirrors the soft brush of Hanks lips and then the gentle slide of his tongue almost perfectly until he takes to the motion and makes it his own, pushing Hank back into the seat and angling his head to make it deeper. Nipping at Hank’s bottom lip hard enough to make him groan. Hank’s hand – the one not curling into Connor’s hair- finds a handful of Connor’s ass and the android moans, soft and desperate. The sound reverberates through Hank to shake his core, stoking the warmth in the pit of his belly. Connor’s mouth is wet and warm like a human’s, and while he doesn’t taste particularly of anything its not that he tastes of nothing. Clean and artificial are the words that spring to Hank’s mind.

After a while of being kissed senseless Hank lets go of Connor’s hair to squeeze a hand between them, placing it on Connor’s chest and applying gentle pressure.

Connor disengages and leans back, not even having the decency to look as dishevelled as Hank feels. There’s a soft blue hue dusting his cheeks and a few locks of hair are askew around his errant curl. But that’s about it. “Is something wrong Hank?”

“Yeah.” Hank works a little more oxygen into his lungs. “I can’t fuckin breathe, ” he chuckles, rubbing affectionately at Connor’s hip.

Connor looks dejected which squeezes Hank’s heart. “I apologise-“

Hank cuts him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t apologise.”

Connor tilts his head. “But humans need to breathe in order to survive.”

“Listen metal moron.” Hank takes Connor’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re gonna apologise for taking my breath away, we’ll be here a long damn time because you’ve been doing that for almost as long as I’ve known you.”

Hank is pretty sure his face is on fire, but he’s also pretty sure it’s a good start to getting how he feels out in the open. Because Connor really does leave him breathless, and sometimes it’s terrifying.

Connor smiles warmly, and then looks terribly amused.

“That was pretty cheesy Hank. And I’m made of a plastic polymer not metal-”

Hank groans letting go of Connor’s hand to slap his own over his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

Connor laughs, the motion shaking his frame ever so slightly. Hank laughs too. It’s good natured, building from his belly and rumbling through his chest coming out in a low chuckle. It’s a great feeling. Without Connor it wouldn’t have been possible for him to reach this point. Where he can laugh freely and enjoy himself without feeling quite so guilty.

Connor takes Hank’s wrists and gently pulls them away from his face so that he can get close again. Connor presses his lips to Hank’s and the world falls away until it’s just them, nothing else exists, nothing else matters. Hank spreads his fingers palm flat against Connor’s chest and under his hand he feels the steady beat of Connors Thirium pump. Solid evidence that Connor is here, that he’s _alive_.

There’s a soft thump from the speakers and Hank’s iPod casts a faint glow. The car is suddenly filled with the first few tinkling notes of a slow jazz number.

Hank laughs again, interrupting Connor’s attempt to kiss him, puffing hot breath against the androids lips. “Now who’s being cheesy. You really are pulling out all the stops.”

“I thought it would create a more romantic mood.”

“Con, you just got me, a cop, to agree to have sex in the back of my car next to a public walkway, trust me when I say you don’t need to try to set the mood. I’m there.” Hank smiles and Connor does too. He looks relieved. Hank suddenly feels a little guilty. Connor is trying so hard to please him. He needs to know this isn’t just a one time thing. “You know, this isn’t just... This is more than just...” Hank clears his throat. He can’t say it. Only he has to because Connor is peering at him hopefully, fingers tightening gently in the fabric of Hank’s coat. “I wanted more for you but, selfishly, I also want... you.” Hank is really on fire this time. He’s burning up cheeks first. He looks away, tilting his head back to stare at the roof of the car.

“I know Hank.”

Hank dares to glance at him. Connor is smiling, waiting patiently again.

“I thought you’d appreciate being able to express how you felt, physically, rather than having to articulate your emotions and express them verbally. Monitoring your vitals during certain interactions gave me a good indication as to how you felt about me.”

“Uh-huh, what interactions exactly?”

Connor looks sheepish suddenly and he avoids eye contact. “After our kiss I attempted subtle flirting techniques and logged your micro reactions in order to determine the best approach.”

Hank thinks back to review Connor’s ‘subtle’ approach, which at one point had included Connor dropping objects near Hank’s desk every hour on the hour for an excuse to bend over and snag Hank’s attention. Not to mention the furthering of Hank’s moral crisis when Connor had decided that almost every evening, he would walk about the house in just his underwear and one of Hank’s old band t-shirts that always managed to slip off of one shoulder, making excuses to touch and get closer. Hank snorts.

“Oh, trust me sweetheart you were about as subtle as a brick to the face.” Hank laughs loudly and he’s relieved. So relieved. A few months into being roommates, he had expected Connor to go on and find something better, wanted him to explore his new found freedom. But all the while Connor had been focusing on their relationship. Flirting and making his intentions as obvious as possible while being careful not to irritate Hank. Now they’re finally meeting in the middle. Hank lets go of that final thread of tension. It feels good to give in so completely.

Connor’s eyebrows pinch together but he doesn’t look entirely unhappy. “Screw you Hank.”

Hank barks a soft laugh in surprise but soon quietens when Connor frames his face with a startling gentleness, eyes molten brown pouring warmth into his soul. “Call me sweetheart again,” he says, voice like honey.

Hank gives an amused hum. “Okay, sweetheart-”

Connor kisses him quiet and it seems he now has it down to an art. He’s a quick study after all. Connor’s synthetic tongue brushes the seam of Hank’s lips which Hank opens up for without hesitation. It takes less than a minute for the kiss to become deep and dirty, Connor’s hands winding into Hank’s hair as he shifts on Hank’s lap.

Hank wonders then as he feels up Connors ass with both hands, what exactly the android has going on downstairs. Not that he’s all that bothered, but he wants to make Connor feel good and he can’t do that unless he knows what he’s working with.

Hank breaks the kiss to ask and leans back. Connor leans in to chase his lips before relenting, stopping with only a couple of inches of breathing space between them.

“Hank,” he moans softly.

Hank manages a hoarsely whispered _Jesus Christ_  before Connor’s lips are on his again. He touches Connor’s hair, his neck, pulling him as close as the laws of physics will allow. Connor’s hips roll into his and if the clothed erection rubbing up against his own is anything to go by, Connor was indeed made anatomically correct. Which brings forth more questions that Hank is happy to put to the back of his mind for now.

Hank rubs gently at the back of Connor’s neck in an absent minded gesture of comfort and Connor moans low into his mouth. Hank tries it again and gets the same reaction this time with Connor squirming in his lap. Strange place for a sensitive spot.

Just as he goes to do it again Hank feels plastic under his fingertips instead of soft synthetic skin. There’s a soft click and a small panel slides open. Hank traces his fingers around the edge, it’s no larger than a matchbox and when he dips his fingers inside and carefully touches the tangle of wires within, Connor turns liquid in his hands. 

He stops licking into Hank’s mouth to groan softly, pressing their foreheads together.

“Connor, what-?”

“Do it again Hank.”

“Fuck, okay.”

Pressing two fingers gently inside, he brushes them against the knot of insulated wires. He doesn’t know what he’s doing it occurs to him, but it’s hard to think with all the blood rushing south and with Connor grinding down into his lap and gasping like he actually needs to breathe.

“Hank.” Connor whimpers and Hank groans, a low primal sound straight from the depths of his soul.

He wraps an arm around Connor’s waist to pull him down as he pushes his hips up, seeking friction. He’s careful, though his fingers are shaking when he explores the inside of the open port. His breath is hot and heavy in Connor’s ear and he kisses the shell of it. He can’t see Connor’s face but the android is trembling every time he pushes his hips up and every time his fingers make contact with the wires or trace the lip of the port. Connor’s hands are fisted into Hank’s jacket and hair and his grip is strong but gentle as if he couldn’t tear Hank apart without breaking a sweat. And isn’t that a thought. A machine designed to hunt and kill, shaking and falling apart in Hank’s lap because this is where he wants to be.

Hank takes a moment to appreciate his luck. That this wonderful creature would rather spend his free days chasing Hank in a bid to win his affection rather than disappearing into the sunset, mission accomplished. Maybe it’s not what’s best for him, but if this is the road Connor chooses then Hank will gladly walk it with him as far as he can go.

Connor lifts his head from Hank’s shoulder and kisses him, it’s deep and desperate and it makes Hank’s heart ache along with his cock. He loves this stupid robot so much it almost physically hurts.

Connor arches, his body trembling, he lets go of Hank only to cling to his shoulders in a jerky movement. His head tips back and a broken shout tears it’s way out of him. Hank feels wetness against his abdomen and the tension seep from Connor’s body. He listens to the oversensitive little _ah_ Connor makes as he withdraws his fingers from the port which closes up with a soft click, synthetic skin lacing together over it.

Hank gives him a moment to breathe and cool his systems. He presses kisses to Connor’s neck and flushed cheeks as well as the corner of his mouth where his lips are slightly parted.

When Hank leans back to look at him Connor’s eyes are half mast, he looks content. Like the cat that got the cream.

“You okay there Con?”

After a moment Connor blinks and adjusts his grip on Hank’s shoulders. There will be bruises tomorrow but Hank can’t find a reason to care.

“Yes, I... That was...”

Hank gives a small hum of agreement figuring he knows exactly what Connor is trying to say.

“Was that your first...?”

Connor smiles, “yes. It was... Most enjoyable.”

Hank chuckles and brushes his fingers through Connor’s hair, “most enjoyable huh?”

Connor nods, his palms coming to rest on Hank’s chest. “Hank.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to engage in intercourse. If you don’t mind.”

Well, fuck.

“Fuck.”

“Yes. I can achieve the android equivalent of climax in a number of ways, but I am curious to try connecting in the way that humans do, with you,”

Hank takes in Connor’s sunny expression and prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that he won’t suffer a heart attack from the stress of being overwhelmingly happy for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I’d like that too. Very much. So, uh... How exactly do we... Proceed?”

Hank looks down at the wet patch on Connor’s pants and wonders if it would be rude to ask what exactly Connor’s ejaculate is composed of. In truth he doesn’t know anything about the sexual capacity of androids. Places like the Eden club always gave him the creeps. Sure human interaction could be difficult, but having sex with something that looked human but couldn’t give consent never really sat right with him. But Connor can and has given consent, and currently he looks eager to share some insight and move things along.

“I am able to self lubricate. There will also be no need for you to use the expired condom in your wallet.”

Hank almost chokes on his own spit. “How do you know about that?”

“I scanned the contents of your wallet at approximately 12:15 yesterday afternoon.”

Hank’s expression is pinched as he tries to remember the details.

“Right. What exactly were you doing with my wallet again?”

“I was trying to determine the exact amount of change in the zip compartment. You handed it to me after calling me a ‘nagging nanny-bot’ and asked me to ‘get you a fucking salad’ since I keep insisting that you stop eating so much junk food. I am only concerned for your health Hank. Incidentally the aforementioned prophylactic expired in July of 2032.”

“Ugh, gimme a break. I know you’re only trying to look out for me but you have to keep in mind, it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.” Hank runs his hands along Connor’s thighs comfortingly and Connor leans into him, looping his arms loosely around Hank’s neck, looking more amused than anything.

“But not impossible. The process is faster when the ‘old dog’ in question is provided appropriate incentive.” Connor _winks_ and Hank is sure that, that heart attack he keeps wondering about is imminent.

“Oh yeah? How about you prove it hot shot.”

“With pleasure.”

Connor climbs off of Hank’s lap as gracefully as possible and sits on the seat next to him. His hands go to the button and zipper on his jeans and Hank swallows hard. He’s seen Connor in varying states of half undress in the station locker room and in his own house but never fully naked and never in a situation like this. When the purpose is to entice Hank. To allow him to touch.

Hank distracts himself temporarily by unfastening and wriggling out of his own jeans which he leaves in the footwell behind the drivers seat. He also shrugs out of his coat to free up his arms, letting it pool at his lower back. His cock is straining against the fabric of his boxers and he automatically gives himself a rub through the material.

When he glances at Connor the android sits in nothing but his shirt -which is open- his skin is smooth and littered with freckles from what Hank can see in the low light. Limbs long, stomach flat with a hint of fabricated muscle. Hank’s eyes naturally lower to the point between Connor’s legs. His cock is like the rest of him, pretty and perfect, its modest length curving up towards his belly. All the while, Connor watches Hank check him out with an unreadable expression.

Maybe he’s regretting this already. Watching a sad old man pleasure himself. He’s probably disgusted-

“Hank.”

Hank meets his eyes. Here it comes. Rejection.

“Do I have permission to touch you?” Connor asks, crawling forward eagerly on the seat.

Hank can’t understand it.

“Are you sure you want to?”

Connor doesn’t give him the pitying look he expects, doesn’t tell him to put his clothes back on. Instead he smiles warmly and gently touches Hank’s cheek.

“More than anything.”

Hank leans into his hand, relieved and grateful. “Well then, I wouldn’t say no.”

Connor presses himself against Hank’s side, skating his fingers along Hank’s inner thigh. Hank lets out a shaky breath as Connor’s palm presses insistently against his erection. Hank hums a low _mm_ and Connor takes it as a sign to continue. He peels the fabric of Hank’s underwear away and Hank’s cock springs free of the confines. He’s a little larger than average not huge but certainly nothing to scoff at. He hopes Connor isn’t put off.

He chances a look at the android just as Connor gets a surprisingly warm hand around him, those slender fingers tightening with perfect pressure, gliding up and then down. Testing. Connor’s eyes are half mast, shining with curiosity and a heat Hank recognises immediately. Connor wants him. It’s hard to believe but it’s written all over his face.

“Relax Hank,” Connor says.

Hank does, tilting his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. Luxuriating in the steady drag of Connor’s hand. A tight knot of pleasure simmers low in his belly and each pull intensifies the feeling. Hank chases it, beginning to push his hips up on every down-stroke. He thinks again about how lucky he is. 

He’s hot and heavy in Connor’s palm, leaking pre-cum steadily, he can hear the slick sound of it as he thrusts into the tight circle of Connor’s fingers. Hank groans and then Connor is there, hot simulated breath on his cheek.

“ _Hank_.”

His voice is strained like he’s very much enjoying watching Hank fall apart. Hank tries not to think about what he himself looks like, but he wants to know what _Connor_ looks like. But he can’t open his eyes. What if somehow this is all a dream and if he opens them Connor will be gone.

Hank squeezes his lids shut tight before daring to open them slowly. Connor is there, close, watching Hank’s cock slide in and out of his fist. He’s still wearing that expression, heat in his eyes, bottom lip shiny with saliva and it makes Hank’s breath hitch. Connor notices him watching and presses their foreheads together. He quickens his pace following the rhythm of Hank’s thundering heartbeat and just as heat coils tight in Hank’s belly with the threat of release, Connor stops, squeezes the base of Hank’s cock gently.

“Fuck,” Hank grits his teeth, breathing hard, fingers digging into the leather of the seat making it squeak in protest. “Fuckin’ tease.”

Connor laughs softly and kisses the corner of Hank’s mouth. “I don’t want you to finish so soon. The standard refractory period for someone of your age and BMI is longer than I’d like to wait if I can help it, I’d like you to be inside me as soon as possible Hank.”

Hank has heard better sweet talk, then again he’s also heard worse.

“Christ Connor, what are you doin’ to me?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Smart ass.”

Connor smiles, that wicked glint back in his eye again as he lets go of Hank’s cock and carefully swings his leg over to straddle him. Hank’s hands naturally gravitate to his ass which he gropes impatiently.

“What’s all this about self lubrication?” Hank asks, his voice has dropped an octave.

Connor is noticeably affected and he shivers as he takes one of Hank’s hands and guides his fingers between his cheeks. Hank feels wetness and his fingers trace a ring of artificial muscle. Connor shivers and his mouth falls open with a soft _ah_.

Hank grins. “Now we’re talkin’.”

He applies pressure and one of his fingers sinks into Connor with a soft slick sound.

Connor moves forward and away from the intrusion, pressing his body into Hank’s, LED circling yellow, flickering red. Hank stops immediately.

“Hey, Connor, are you-“

“Don’t stop Hank.”

Hank gives an apprehensive hum.

“It’s okay, it’s just... A lot.”

“I’ll go slow, just tell me if you want to stop.”

Connor nods, relaxing enough for Hank’s probing fingers to continue their work. Hank works his middle finger into him down to the second knuckle and Connor trembles making a choked off noise.

“Christ. What does it feel like?”

“I-it feels, like every one of my internal sensors are experiencing an unstable electrical charge all at once. In a good way. I-I have turned up the sensitivity in order to maximise sensory input-"

“Well that’s why it feels too much dummy! If you can crank it up, turn it down.”

Connor huffs, rocking his hips to urge Hank to continue. “No. I want... I want it to feel you physically as I do emotionally.”

Hank scoffs. “Too much?”

“I-in a good way.”

Hank’s not sure whether or not to take that as a compliment. But if it’s what Connor wants it’s what he’ll get. “Alright... Alright you plastic weirdo.”

Connor laughs and Hank kisses him, swallowing a moan as he eases two fingers into him. He’s tight with enough give that Hank isn’t too worried about hurting him. In fact he suspects Connor has allowed foreplay just to please Hank, and to test out his sensitivity levels. His reactions put Hank’s fears to rest, by the time Hank has three fingers stuffed up inside him, the android is softly moaning praise against Hank's lips as his hips work greedily, seeking to get him impossibly deeper.

Hank seeks out a small silicone feeling sensory pad that he has discovered drives Connor wild and rubs at it hard.

Connor’s body jerks, his fingers tighten around the fabric of hanks shirt which is clutched tightly in his fists.

“ _Hank_.”

Connor’s voice modulator glitches around the word as a second orgasm wracks his body.

“Yeah, that’s it sweetheart,” Hank rasps against his throat. He feels like a dirty old man and at the same time it’s the youngest he’s felt in years. “Feel good Con?”

Connor nods, his eyes hazy but only for a moment. He’s bright eyed and ready for more so fast it makes Hank’s head spin. It’s going to be heaven and hell keeping up with him.

Hank slips his fingers from Connor, his hand now coated in lubricant which he uses to slick himself up.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready since approximately three seconds after my first orgasm.”

“Well lucky you. Gonna take a ride on this disco stick or what?”

“Assuming that ‘take a ride on this disco stick’ is a euphemism for intercourse, then yes.”

Hank laughs. “You bet it is. I’m all yours.”

“All mine...”

Connor contemplates the gravity of those words. Hank can almost see little metal cogs turning in his brain. Hank is filled with warm affection for him.

Connor shifts into position, reaching under himself to line Hank up. And then he’s pushing down and Hank is engulfed in tight wet warmth. It doesn’t feel like it would if Connor were flesh and bone. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing does. Nothing but the fact that Connor is choosing to share this vulnerable moment with him.

Hank holds him, unable to not touch him but he keeps still as Connor shifts, up and down, up and down until Hank is buried deep inside him. Once Connor’s ass hits Hank’s thighs neither of them move.

“Hank.”

“Mm?”

“Count backwards from ten.”

Hank does as he’s told counting backwards in his head, trying to keep his breathing measured. He looks at Connor curiously.

“I detected you were dangerously close to climaxing, I wanted to prolong this experience.”

Hank blushes a furious red. “You!.. fine. You have a point.”

There’s a touch of smugness to the smile Connor gives him.

“Give an old man a break, I haven’t exactly done this in a while and...” if he’s going to confess completely its now or never. Time to lay the rest of the cards on the table. “I have been thinking about this a lot, and for it to actually happen. It’s... It’s good, more than good.”

“I’m glad Hank,” Connor is practically beaming at him, his long fingers playing with the ends of Hank’s hair. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d very much like to experience a third orgasm.”

“Oh you are an absolute charmer.”

Connor winks at him again and Hank laughs.

It’s gentle at first, Connor sets a pace that both infuriates and pleasantly overwhelms Hank. Connor rides him slow and steady, bringing Hank to the brink of orgasm before sitting firm until Hank’s climax ebbs away to an intense ache. Rinse, repeat. Hank doubts Connor knows what exactly edging is but he’s exceptionally good at it. Every time he sits tight he indulges Hank in a deep languid kiss that steals oxygen from his lungs but ultimately fails to distract from the feel of Connor squeezing rhythmically around him.

Hank grips him by the hips, desperate, Connor is definitely not as soft as he looks. There’s little give to his synthetic skin but it doesn’t put Hank off. He’s reminded of how strong Connor really is which does terrible wonderful things to him.

Connor lets Hank grab and push and pull, finally seeming to give into Hank’s mantra of _this time, please, this time_. He lets Hank hold his hips tight, his fingers digging into the backrest either side of Hank’s shoulders as Hank thrusts up hard into him. Connor’s face is slack with pleasure and Hank’s heart is slamming wildly in his ribcage, skin slick with sweat, hair sticking in damp tendrils to his forehead, pulse pounding in his ears.

Connor stops him again.

Whispering his name into his ear and setting his centre of gravity low to halt Hank’s pistoning hips. Hank stops, throwing his head back against the headrest to pant wildly at the ceiling. He’s incredibly frustrated but enjoying it immensely. 

“Hank,” Connor says shakily and he climbs off of hanks cock.

Hank curses as the cool air meets his heated flesh and he’s sure he’ll lose his erection, that is until Connor slips down onto his knees on the floor of the car and takes Hank boldly into his mouth.

“Fuck, Connor that’s- you shouldn’t-“

Connor hums and drags his tongue along the underside of Hank’s cock which is now an angry red and glistening with a mixture of Connor’s fluids and his own. Hank watches with rapt attention as Connor strokes him, once, twice before he holds Hank’s gaze and wraps his lips around the head. That’s all it takes. Hank is coming harder than he’s ever come in his life. Seeing stars, galaxies, whole other universes.

When the world comes back into focus, Connor is licking his lips, mouth wet with lubricant and come. He’s amazing, beautiful, Hank wants to tell him so. But all he can manage is, “oh, Connor, you are so disgusting.” But it’s fond. He’s laughing and Connor is smiling back, pulling himself back up onto the seat next to Hank. He still looks mostly unruffled compared to his human companion who is a sweaty mess, struggling for breath like a landed fish.

Hank pulls Connor close and uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the mess from Connor’s mouth. He notices then that Connor is still hard.

“Damn, you were really gunning for that third orgasm too. Hmm, maybe I can help you out there.” He grins a little, pulling Connor tight against his side.

Connor folds one leg under himself and drapes the other over Hanks lap, leaning back a little in invitation. “Maybe you can.”

Hank wraps a hand around his cock and Connor sighs and clings to him, resting his head on Hank’s broad shoulder as Hank brings him off with a few thorough strokes.

Connor is quiet after, pressing his nose to Hank’s pulse point as his systems cool.

The car is a mess.

They are a mess.

Of course that’s the perfect time for there to be a knock on the window. A sharp wrap of knuckles against glass that has Hank cursing and diving for his clothes.

He’s grateful that his heavy breathing has fogged up the windows so there’s not a chance in hell that whoever is outside can see in. Connor follows suit, pulling on his clothing at a much more leisurely pace, and once he is fully dressed he shuts off the music and puts a little distance between them in an effort to look less conspicuous.

The sticky evidence however, is all over Hank’s lap and shirt -and probably in Connor’s hair- so Hank pulls his coat tight over the mess on his person and prays that it isn’t visible. He glances at Connor to make sure he’s decent before lowering the window.

Torchlight and the cold bite of winter air hits Hank in the face and it takes him a few moments to realise that Chris is the one holding the torch, gawking at him.

“Good evening Officer Miller.” Connor says, peering round Hank, cool as a cucumber.

Hank wants to die. 

“Evening Connor... Lieutenant”

“Chris... What’s up.”

“I got a call from a civilian walking their dog. Said it looked like a couple of teenagers had parked up and... Well. She said I should check it out.”

“Well. We’re not a couple of teenagers.”

“I can see that...”

Hank is seriously contemplating throwing himself into the river.

“I promise not to speculate. But I don’t think I need to remind you that this is a public area and-"

“See you at the office Chris.” Hank swiftly clicks the button on the door, bringing the window up.

“Have a nice night gentlemen!” Chris calls cheerfully.

 

\-----

 

The drive home passes mostly in comfortable silence. Hank catches himself smiling now and then, feeling 100 pounds lighter despite the rumours that might start to circulate tomorrow at work. Connor however, slips into pensiveness in the last leg of the journey and once they are inside the house with Sumo nudging into their legs in greeting, he looks at Hank, LED spinning yellow.

“What is it Connor?” Hank asks, already dreading the answer.

Connor crouches down to scratch Sumo behind both ears, instantly calming him.  
“What am I to you Lieutenant?”

Hank is surprised to find this question doesn’t bother him like it would have a month ago, hell, even a few hours ago. He knows the answer.

“You’re my partner. My buddy to drink with. Not just a machine, designed to accomplish a task.”

Connor smiles at the reflection of his own words from that night by the river.

“I like the term partners. I think it encompasses everything that we are. Colleagues, lovers, friends.”

The soft look he gives Hank is too raw. Hank feels his eyes become wet.

“You sap.” Hank pulls Connor to his feet - much to Sumo’s displeasure- and hugs him tightly. “I like the sound of that too.”

Connor doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him. He rests his head on Hank’s shoulder LED a calm blue.

Hank thinks, for the first time in years, he’s glad that he’s alive.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely fell in love with this game and this pair.
> 
> Don't mind constructive criticism but please be gentle.


End file.
